


Strange Bedfellows

by flowerofsin



Category: Watchmen
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-15
Updated: 2009-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-02 22:33:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerofsin/pseuds/flowerofsin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warning for dubious consent. Blake discovers what Osterman already knows will occur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strange Bedfellows

Walking through the jungle during the heat of midday, Doctor Manhattan could hear the sound of gunshots in the distance. He could hear the crackle of flames as the trees a short distance away were set on fire. The screams of enemy soldiers filled the air as they ran from their hiding place, human torches visible through the smoke.

"Run, you fuckers!" the Comedian shouted after them. He used the fire dancing on one tree nearby to light his cigar, the smoke rising from it wafting up to join the haze. Flamethrower in hand, he walked past one of the fallen men, nearly stepping on a scorched limb.

Osterman watched the other man, approaching as Blake motioned for him to follow before he turned to join the others who pursued the fleeing enemy troops. Manhattan plodded after him, the carnage he'd just witnessed somehow not managing to touch him. Lately, less and less actually could. He raised his hand toward a man who popped up from a hiding place nearby to level a rifle at him. There was a scream as the soldier was torn asunder, but Osterman felt little if anything at all. He absently wondered how he could remain aloof in the face of such brutality on both sides. His humanity often seemed to him a fading echo of a dream he'd had long ago.

But there were things that managed to make Manhattan still feel something. Like the way Laurie smiled at him as she touched his skin, still managing to marvel at the sight and sensation of it despite the two of them being together for quite some time now. Like the pain he felt knowing that one day he would lose her even as he held her in his arms. The loneliness that he could still feel was a part of what was slipping away from him like the gears of that clock carried by gravity to the ground years ago. There were times that Osterman wanted to cling to those last vestiges, though he knew this would be fighting inevitability.

Jon was as inhuman as this war, as inhuman as the events taking place right before him as the Comedian set a flailing man ablaze. The grin on Blake's face was wide as he watched the resulting flames. Osterman gazed at him curiously like a puzzle he hadn't yet figured out. While Jon cared for Laurie, he knew that she deserved someone who could feel for her properly when all he could do was try and fail. Perhaps the kind of person that was suited for Jon was someone as inhuman as he was. The Comedian turned after a moment to gaze at him when he sensed Osterman's scrutiny. Jon canted his head, taking in how the light from the fire flickered across Blake's sweaty skin. The vision of a time not so long from now garnered a faint smile from Osterman. Witnessing it, a curious expression flitted across the Comedian's face before he shook his head, that typical grin gracing his features once more. Osterman watched him turn and go, following at a distance and musing over the events that played out in his mind.

 

*********************************

 

In the wee hours of the morning, the number of patrons had thinned out in the bar until only Doctor Manhattan and the Comedian remained. Osterman stood off to one side as the other man sat on a barstool, a half empty whiskey bottle nearby. Jon watched him tilt his glass up to his lips, his throat working as the liquid slid downward. Even now the man was an enigma to Osterman. The Comedian could show callousness one moment, committing acts that bordered on depravity, but then a strange somberness the next. He appeared to be in one of the latter moods tonight despite the upbeat tune most of the other soldiers were singing of late. It appeared as though surrender of the enemy was only days away, but judging from the look on the Comedian's face, one would think that the tide of war had turned against them.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jon watched the bartender leave to go into the back storage room before turning his attention back to the man at his side. Alcohol made most humans lose some of their inhibitions, so Osterman waited until his comrade had taken in what he knew was a sufficient amount to accomplish this according to prior observations. If he were still his human self, Osterman would have viewed this as taking advantage of the situation. Jon viewed it as such even now, but without the pang of conscience that he should have had. Doctor Manhattan was merely ensuring the success of the endeavor he had in mind.

Jon moved closer to the barstool, putting a hand on the counter near where the Comedian's arm rested. Catching the motion, Blake gazed curiously up in his direction. Jon knew that this was as good a time as any to start. "When I first met you, there was something even then that I was drawn to inexplicably," Doctor Manhattan began. He noted how the other man's frown deepened at his words, but took this as a sign of him considering them. "After the time we've spent fighting as comrades in this war, I have discovered what it is. The two of us are very different, but in one way much alike. Due to the circumstances in our lives, we both are at a distance from humanity. As such, I have been wondering lately if we aren't suited for each other."

During the course of Jon's speech, Blake had turned fully toward him, equal parts anger, confusion, and growing alarm written on his face. "What the hell are you trying to say?" Blake asked him after a moment of stunned silence. "That you've got a _thing_ for me or something?"

"It is not uncommon for comrades in arms to develop a bond due to their experiences in wartime or other situations involving life and death struggles. The more I observe you and your behaviors, the more intriguing that I find you. I am rarely surprised by human beings anymore. yet find you strangely fascinating. So I-"

"Whoa, wait a minute," Blake interrupted, shaking his head and punctuating his words with a waving hand. "I might be many things, but I am not some homo. If you want to work out some issues you've got, do it with some other guy around here." He turned back to the bar, pouring more liquor into the shot glass and throwing it back, letting the burn of the fluid wash away some of his growing discomfort.

Doctor Manhattan looked vaguely perplexed. "You have no morality to speak of that I have observed so I am unsure why you are so resistant to the idea. Besides, none of the others here hold any interest for me."

"Well that's too bad for you, isn't it?" Blake answered sullenly. He grasped the bottle of whiskey in one hand and slid off of the stool. The feeling of unease that had taken hold of him had risen, and he needed to get away from the source of it.

Doctor Manhattan followed him, reaching out a hand that alighted on the retreating man's shoulder. "Comedian, wait, I-"

The bottle slid out of the Comedian's grasp to shatter loudly on the floor as he whirled, shoving the other man away. His sidearm was suddenly in his other hand, rising to point at Osterman, who canted his head in thought.

"Don't. Fucking. Touch me," Blake told him. He wasn't so drunk that the barrel of the gun wavered.

"Comedian, that really isn't necessary." Jon advanced toward the other man, Blake matching him backward step for step.

"It's not? Do you think that I'm just going to let you do what you want?" Blake asked angrily. "I would never let a guy touch me, especially not some walking H-"

"But you will," Doctor Manhattan assured. "One minute from now." He moved steadily closer. "And fifteen minutes later, you will allow me to do much more." Osterman could see it in his mind so clearly, a grimace of pleasure on the Comedian's face as he gazed into his half lidded eyes. Eyes that reminded him vaguely of Laurie's.

Manhattan watched the Comedian's face twist angrily at his advance. He could almost see the moment that swirling thought became motion as Blake's finger twitched on the trigger. The expression of shock was clear on Blake's face as the gun became sand that slid through his closed fingers and a blur moved toward him as he jerked backward. Moments later, Blake was against the back wall, eyes wide and lips parted, a shaking gasp leaving them as he gazed up into glowing eyes.

The Comedian cringed as he saw a blue hand rise out of the corner of his eye, but there wasn't the burn of annihilation that he half expected. Instead, there was the sensation of fingers trailing feather light down the right side of his face as though they were tracing a path only Osterman could see.

"I told you, didn't I?" Doctor Manhattan said with a faint smile. His fingers trailed to the corner of the Comedian's mouth. The man shivered slightly as he ran a digit across his lower lip. Jon studied the chemical composition of the perspiration that trickled down his companion's cheek as he listened to Blake's labored breathing.

Blake felt as though he were pinned to the wall by the light touch and dared not move. He'd seen first hand the kind of destruction that seemingly harmless hand could cause. "I can't believe that you... I'm not some girl, you know." He cursed himself silently at the slight waver he heard in his voice.

"That much is obvious," Jon agreed. His hand had slid down Blake's throat to trail down his chest, pausing at the center before stroking back upward to his shoulder then the side of his throat.

"This isn't happening," the Comedian said in a low voice, his gut beginning to twist.

"This already _has_ happened, at least for me, which is why it is happening now." His hand slid to cup the back of the Comedian's neck as he leaned down to press lips to the other man's.

Stiffening, Blake's hands twitched at his sides as he stared straight ahead. He had the urge to shove the man away and lash out, but to what end? How could you stop a man who could disintegrate you on a whim? The Comedian liked his life, such as it was, so he didn't want to anger the other man. He couldn't be sure that Manhattan wouldn't act on what Blake saw as an unspoken threat in Jon's previous exercise of power. Osterman wouldn't be the first soldier to lash out at a comrade in this place out of madness, and he didn't want to trust that seemingly calm demeanor. As the man said himself, he was hardly human anymore. Blake knew as well as anyone in this forsaken land, maybe better, what Osterman was capable of.

There was a shimmer of the air around them and a lurching in his gut that made Blake squeeze his eyes shut. When Osterman pulled away, he opened them, realizing that they were in one of the storage rooms on the base.

"No one will disturb us here," Osterman reassured him. This did nothing to comfort Blake as faintly glowing hands roved over his clothed form. He frowned as he noted how the storage boxes nearby morphed into a solid form that resembled a bed at a glance from Jon.

"I should just lie back and enjoy it, huh?" Blake asked sullenly as Jon guided him toward it. He was resigned to what would occur but felt oddly detached from current events. Manhattan only smiled patiently as he urged him toward the center of the structure. Blake noted absently that the substance he shifted against was soft yet firm.

Startled, Blake gasped at the sound of buckles unfastening and the feel of leather shifting over his skin. Doctor Manhattan gazed at him calmly as the Comedian was left naked after the clothing slithered off his body to the floor. Blake glared at the glowing man before him, his jaw working as blunt nails dug into the strange material he sat on, but Osterman seemed unaffected by it. The faint knowing smile on his face made Blake want to wipe it off as the man reached toward him.

The Comedian's chest heaved as energy trailed along his skin at Manhattan's wandering touch. He closed his eyes as he frowned, trying to suppress a moan, hating that heat was starting to build in his gut at Jon's ministrations.

"Stop it," the Comedian blurted finally, the conflicting feelings within him almost overwhelming him. "Just do what you're going to do. Don't try to make me enjoy it." His eyes hardened further. "I don't _want_ to enjoy it."

Doctor Manhattan's smile widened. "But you already are enjoying it," he insisted. "Five minutes from now, you will cease denying it. You will be beyond words with which to do so."

Osterman moved behind Blake, pulling the man back against him with a hand that slid around to his chest. He could feel the pounding of Blake's heart under his palm. His free hand trailed down to the makeshift bed. His finger swirled in a small area on the surface, and it became a viscous liquid. Jon ran his fingers through it, spreading it across them with a thumb. The consistency was just right, not that he had expected anything different.

The Comedian stiffened at the feel of slick fingers traveling down his cleft to stroke across his entrance. He hissed as one slipped inside, stroking in such a way that it seemed the other man was looking for something. Blake's body jerked as a strange but disturbingly pleasant sensation resulted from Osterman's probing. The arm around him tightening slightly, Manhattan continued with the motions inside him, the addition of more digits making Blake grunt.

The Comedian squeezed his eyes shut at the sensation of Jon's lubricated cock sliding in the cleft between his buttocks. He hated how the motion caused his own cock to twitch. What was wrong with him, anyway? Why did the knot in his gut have an edge of anticipation that seemed to be trying to drown the disgust?

"Stop drawing this out and just get it over with!" Blake insisted.

"Some people would think that you are almost eager for this, Comedian," Osterman answered. The sound of his voice suddenly seemed strange to Blake, as though there were two people speaking in unison. When an additional pair of hands were placed on his chest from in front of him, Blake realized why. His eyes opened in shock to witness a duplicate of Doctor Manhattan kneeling on the bed in front of him wearing a faint smile.

"What the _fuck?_" Blake exclaimed. He knew the man could grow in size, but he had no idea that Osterman could split himself in two.

"I remember when you once told me about a time you were with twins," Doctor Manhattan said as his duplicate's hands slid up to Blake's shoulders. "I thought that this might make things more exciting for you." As the Jon behind the Comedian positioned himself at the man's entrance, the one before him pressed downward. He hadn't thought that the Comedian's eyes could get any wider, but they did, his mouth hanging open as he sheathed Osterman's cock with his flesh.

Blake cursed when his hips came to rest in the first Osterman's lap, his chest heaving as the second Osterman slid a hand down his belly toward his half hard cock. The man stroked it in his fist at a languid pace, his other hand braced on Blake's shoulder to help the first Jon steady his body as he raised and lowered Blake repeatedly on his erection. Then there was a mouth on Blake's lips, his neck, trailing wetly down his belly before the Comedian felt his erection sucked into the duplicate's mouth.

It wasn't long before the Comedian's head fell back onto the first Manhattan's shoulders, his mouth open as if to moan but with no sound escaping. He arched at the sensation of being taken deep into the second Osterman's mouth. He twisted at being spitted on the first Osterman's cock, hard heat thrusting steadily inside of him. Blake began to make incomprehensible sounds, wanting to beg for it to stop as much as he wanted to plead for it to continue.

With little preamble, Osterman swallowed around him as he took Blake deep into his mouth. The Comedian writhed before shooting warmly against the back of his throat. The second Manhattan groaned around his cock as he felt the man clench around his other self's erection. It was almost enough to bring him to the edge, but thankfully not quite. He pulled back to gaze at the Comedian, who was panting loudly as his first self continued to push up into him.

"Wha... what the hell? You got what you wanted, so g-get off me," Blake told him in a breathless voice.

"The refractory period of the human male tends to vary among individuals," Osterman told him as he watched his first self continue to thrust into Blake. "I am curious to find out how long yours is."

Blake growled at the way the other man touched a hand to his chin in thought as he watched. "Bastard," the Comedian managed to spit before his teeth clenched tightly together as he was made to bounce in the first Manhattan's lap.

 

End


End file.
